Is That A Cat
by luvsbitca
Summary: The day of Stiles' party his extended family, the Addamses, are in town and he receives a hissing box on his doorstep. Sequel To – Roses For Stiles


**Title –** Is That A Cat?  
 **Sequel To –** Roses For Stiles  
 **Author –** Moonbeam  
 **Rating –** Teen  
 **Warnings –** Nothing  
 **Summary –** The day of Stiles' party his extended family, the Addamses, are in town and he receives a hissing box on his doorstep.  
 **Disclaimer –** Don't own either universe – just Netflix, DVDs, and a highly suggestive brain.  
 **Author's Notes –** I'm feeling a little down over the reception to something else I wrote so I decided to come and write the Addams sequel instead. There will be another one after this, which I've started, but I had the image of the kitten and Derek and could not resist. I hope this is good.

 **Is That A Cat?**  
by Moonbeam

"Are you sure there isn't anything I can do to help?" Stiles asked, staring at Lydia with suspicion.

"It's your birthday," the redhead said, with a smile. "You don't have to help on your birthday."

"But, how are you going to…"

Lydia smirked at him. "I've got that covered."

Stiles frowned at her but just then the front door wrenched open and Derek burst into the room. The werewolf froze and looked at Lydia and Stiles and growled – low and rough.

Stiles looked at Lydia. "What did you tell him?"

Derek glared at Lydia again and turned around.

"No," she said, grabbing onto his leather jacket and pulling Derek back in. "You're helping with Stiles' party."

"He doesn't have to," Stiles defended, watching Derek's tense shoulders. Stiles knew the other man didn't really enjoy birthdays – he only attended them because they were pack. His version of celebrating someone's birthday was to call Stiles a month before and have the human tell him what to buy – or drag him to the shop to buy it himself, then arrive at the last minute for the party and leave as soon as they have blown out the candles and opened the presents.

"Yes, he does," Lydia said, looking at Stiles in a way that made him feel like he should be able to read something into her expression.

"No," Stiles said, walking over and pulling Lydia's fingers from the leather. "I'll help."

"It's your birthday," Derek said, turning around, face determined. He pulled off the jacket and laid it over the back of one of the chairs. "What do you need me to do?"

"Kira and Malia are getting the food. I need help with decorating."

"Okay," Derek said, looking around the room.

Stiles didn't have a huge group of friends – he had a few from university that were good enough friends to drive to Beacon Hills for a party and he had the pack. So they were having the party in the backyard and Lydia had taken over the party preparations without any consultation. Stiles wasn't surprised about it but he wasn't entirely sure what to expect either. And he knew Lydia, and Derek, and knew they would never let him help. So, Stiles went into the kitchen and pulled all of the stuff from the fridge he'd need to make omelettes – if he had to watch his friends work then he was going to at least enjoy some food and he knew Derek loved his omelette. He found a good playlist on his phone and sang along to himself as he chopped onions and bacon. Derek drifted through the kitchen every few minutes either carrying things or coming back with empty hands to steal hot bacon from the frypan or veggies from the chopping board. Stiles was almost certain he ended up using at least twice the amount of food he needed to but eventually he turned three omelettes out onto plates and queued up _Star Wars_ on Netflix.

He had just put the first piece into his mouth when the doorbell rang and he groaned and climbed off the couch. He pointed his fork at Derek. "Hands off."

Derek grinned at him around a mouthful of omelette and nodded.

Stiles slinked off to the door and Derek listened with half an ear to the conversation and the series of low, murmuring groans that came from the door. He turned to look at Lydia but the redhead didn't have his hearing.

Stiles threw open the door and looked up, and up, and up, until he was looking at Lurch.

"Hey, Lurch, long time no see."

Lurch made a slightly happy groaning noise and Stiles couldn't resist smiling at him.

"What are you doing here? The party isn't until tonight."

Lurch held out a box that hissed and Stiles accepted it – surprised at how light it was given how large it was. There was a card on top and Stiles recognised Wednesday's writing.

"Why did she send this now?"

Lurch groaned at him.

"The party is tonight."

Lurch groaned again.

Stiles smiled, remembering how to understand Lurch.

"Well, thanks, do you want to come in?"

Lurch looked beyond Stiles and shook his head.

"Okay, but I'll see you tonight?"

Lurch nodded and groaned out a goodbye before he turned around and walked back to the car. Stiles hipped the door closed and walked into the living room.

He put the box down onto the coffee table just as his father walked in from upstairs – still wearing his pyjamas, a pair of track pants from Berkeley. Stiles smiled at his father's support and handed over his omelette – he could make himself another one.

"What is that?" Lydia asked, eying the box.

"Not sure," Stiles said, as the box hissed again.

"It's from Morticia, isn't it," his father said, looking around as if confused about where his coffee was. Sam had had to work the night shift the night before and he didn't pull up quite as well as he used to from the night of work. Stiles worried about him more every time he came home. "Stiles?"

Stiles blinked his focus back to everyone and shook his head. "What?"

"Is this from Morticia?"

"No, Wednesday."

Sam nodded. "I figured, it's hissing so either it's something from Morticia or it's something to do with werewolves and Derek's not growling menacingly at the box."

Stiles smiled at his father and shuffled forward on the couch to gently open the box. Inside was a pet carrier – ornate and either old or made to look it with bronzed metal at the top and black metal at the bottom. There was a cat inside – mostly grey with flecks of orange running through its fur. It was a kitten – a tiny ball of fuzz that looked like a surprising, miniature of Waterboarding.

"Oh my God," Stiles said, pulling the kitten out of the container. "It looks just like Waterboarding."

"Waterboarding?" Derek asked.

"Wednesday's cat."

"And I ask you," Lydia said, moving forward. "Why would anyone name their cat Waterboarding – it's a torture technique."

Stiles laughed. "That is exactly why she would call her cat Waterboarding."

"Are you sure that's a cat?" Derek asked. "It looks a little…"

"Like a zombie cat," Lydia finished.

"Oh man," Stiles said, putting down the cat on the mat, "I found a children's picture book about a zombie bunny the other day – it's by an Australian and it's…" Stiles' voice faded out. The cat had scratched its claws on the mat a few times and then made a beeline for Derek. The werewolf watched the kitten but he didn't seem at all surprised when the cat started trying to climb up his pant leg. Finally Derek bent forward and scooped the kitten up in one hand – Stiles hadn't realised just how tiny the kitten was, or how large Derek's hand was, until it was holding a kitten. Derek deposited the cat on his lap and looked up at Stiles.

"What?" Stiles asked, looking at Derek with wide eyes.

Derek shrugged. "Cats like me."

The kitten in question turned around on Derek's lap a couple of times and then kneaded at Derek's thigh – Stiles had felt those thighs, they were not kneadable, and settled down.

"I do not understand what is happening right now," Stiles said, frowning at the adorable picture in front of him.

"Cats like me."

"They like him," Sam said, patting his stomach. "I'm getting a coffee."

"But," Stiles said, sliding into the space his father had vacated. "Why do cats like you?"

Derek shrugged and moved his plate so that the cat didn't eat the rest of his omelette. Then Derek picked up a bit of egg and held it out to the cat who happily took it off the werewolf's fingers.

"You're a werewolf," Stiles said, flailing a little at the cat eating from Derek's fingers.

"Yes," Derek said slowly.

"And there is a cat eating from your fingers like you're its mama cat."

Derek glared at Stiles.

"What?" Stiles asked. "Sorry, I just never imagined you…like this."

"Cats and rabbits," Derek said, voice a little shy, "they both like me."

Stiles flopped back into the couch. "My mind is literally blown – there are pieces decorating the inside of my skull, it's a massacre."

Derek rolled his eyes and stood up, depositing the cat onto Stiles' stomach. The cat clawed at his stomach and Stiles had to fight the urge to curl in and protect himself. He couldn't resist the giggle that slipped out.

"No one," he said firmly, "and, I repeat, no one is going to comment on that manly chuckle."

"You're ticklish?" Derek asked.

Lydia cackled and Stiles knew he was going to regret everything. But he let it go and scratched at the back of the kitten's neck. Then he realised it had odd eyes – one green, one almost amber.

"What am I going to call you?" Stiles asked the kitten.

"How are you going to take it back to Berkeley is the real question," his father asked, walking back into the room and handing a plate to Stiles. On it was a new omelette.

"Thanks Dad."

"Happy birthday, Przemysław," his father said, leaning down and kissing him on the forehead.

"Thanks, Dad."

"That thing looks like it should be missing an eye and living in some alleyway terrifying small dogs," Sam said, frowning down at the kitten.

"I know," Stiles said, beaming. "It's awesome, isn't it?"

Sam shook his head. "Between this and werewolves, I worry about you."

"Thanks, Dad."

Sam shook his head and looked at Lydia and Derek working. "I'm going to try and get some more sleep."

"Are you okay?" Stiles asked, scooping up the kitten and following his father up the stairs.

"Just tired, we got called out last night to two separate teen parties."

"Fun, we'll keep it down," Stiles offered, leaving his dad at the top of the stairs and turning. He paused and turned around again. "I can keep the kitten, right?"

His father looked at him and nodded slowly. "You can keep the cat."

"Thanks, Dad. I'm going to have to work out if it's a boy or a girl now so I can name it."

"Mmm," Sam said, walking into this bedroom.

Stiles turned and walked downstairs, Derek was standing at the bottom.

"Give me the kitten," Derek said.

Stiles frowned and handed the kitten over.

Derek turned the cat over and peered at it for a few seconds before handing it back. "It's a she."

Stiles felt his mouth drop open as he accepted the kitten back. "You can tell the sex of a kitten?"

Derek's lips quirked and he went back to working under Lydia's instruction. Stiles ate his lunch and then stretched out on the couch and pulled out his phone. His cousin answered on the second ring.

"Stiles."

"Hey, Wednesday, how are you?"

"Terrible."

"That's brilliant," Stiles said, happily. "So, I now have a cat."

"I know, I sent Lurch to deliver it to you."

"I figured, she looks like Waterboarding."

Wednesday was silent but in such a pleasant way that Stiles knew she was amused – with Wednesday it was all expressions and silences.

"Derek said it's a she."

"She is, what're you going to name her?"

"I haven't decided yet. I could go with electroshock therapy but that would be in poor taste for Derek."

"That's two, Stiles."

"Two?"

"Mentions of Derek," Wednesday informed Stiles drily "I am so looking forward to meeting him tonight."

"Right," Stiles said, feeling nervous sweat beading at his temple. "That is why I called – why didn't you bring the kitten tonight."

"Mother didn't think it would be best to give you a kitten in the middle of the party."

"I can see that. If you guys wanna catch up early or something…"

"Mother is at the cemetery, she said she was visiting Aunt Claudia while she's in town. And, that she had another friend to speak to as well."

Stiles scratched behind the kitten on his chest's ears and thought about his aunt down at the cemetery having a conversation with his mother…and a friend…

"How does Aunty Tish know anyone else in Beacon Hills?"

"I don't know, Stiles, we Addamses are a wide-spread group."

"That you are, I think I've seen Calpurnia around the campus but she's so hard to pin down."

"She's there. Her family is very disappointed."

"I didn't think there were that many courses about spells and hexes."

"She is studying to be a lawyer," Wednesday said, no tone to tell Stiles if she was joking or not.

"Calpurnia Addams is studying to be a lawyer?"

Wednesday sighed.

"I take it this is not the happy news it would be in other families."

"She wants to be an entertainment lawyer."

"That is a bit of change from when we were kids. I thought she was going to follow in her great, great-grandmother's footsteps."

"There was a minister who she had her sights set on and everything," Wednesday told him.

"Does she at least still take part in the rituals with her mum?"

"No."

"That's a shame." Stiles said, thinking of the few times he'd caught them all dancing naked under the quarter moon.

"I do believe that Pubert looks up to her."

Stiles frowned, he knew that Aunty Tish and Uncle Gomez would support their children in anything but he wondered if Pubert could have changed that much.

"But, you'll all be here tonight?"

"Yes, we will."

"I'll see you then."

"We shall all be there. I do hope all of your friends will be there. I look forward to meeting them all."

"All?"

"Mainly Derek."

"You will be nice, won't you?"

"I shall see you this evening, Stiles."

"Wednesday," Stiles said, a little desperately. "You will be nice…please?"

"Goodbye, Stiles."

"Wednesday!"

There was silence on the other end of the call and when Stiles pulled the phone away from his ear the call was over.

"Stiles?" Stiles looked over at Derek who was standing at the end of the couch. "Is everything okay?"

"My cousin is just being completely…her. I have a tendency to attract women into my life who want to make my life more difficult and…I think Lydia and Wednesday are basically soulmates – Wednesday is just much more dry humour and terrifying Wednesday-ness."

"We do not need two of them."

"No," Stiles said with a smile. The kitten stood up and walked down Stiles' body, jumping up and into Derek's arms. The werewolf caught her without looking away from Stiles. "I think my kitten likes you better than me."

Derek smirked. "She's got good taste."

"Yeah, it's good taste, but it's a bit crushing on my birthday."

Derek walked over and deposited the cat onto his chest. "I told you, cats like me. It's not about you, it's about the werewolf thing – they like werewolves."

"Really?"

"Most of us, they never liked Laura – she was more of a dog person."

Stiles felt the sudden swell of pride that he always felt when Derek shared something from before the fire with him.

"I'm thinking of calling her Wolverine." Stiles said, suddenly, half wanting to change the topic and half wanting to distract himself.

"He was a guy."

"Wolverina?"

Derek smiled. "Can't think of a female superhero?"

"I did think about Rogue."

Derek scooped the cat up and looked at her. "She does look like she could suck your life force out."

Stiles couldn't resist smiling. "She'd need a Wolverine though – they were at their most epic together."

"You want to get another cat? Already?"

Stiles shrugged. "I just don't want her to be lonely."

"She's probably going to be lonely when you go back to school."

Stiles nodded. "I'll have to find a good catsitter."

"I'm sure your dad will enjoy the company."

"Oh yeah, and besides – soon I'm going to be back for good."

Derek smiled brightly and then took an awkward step back. "I'm going back to help Lydia."

"I'm just going to lie here and bond with Rogue then."

"It is your birthday."

"Then where are the scantily clad people with palm fronds and peeled grapes?"

Derek quirked an eyebrow and walked away from him. Stiles looked down at Rogue and smiled – so far it was a good birthday.

 **The End**

The Zombie bunny picture book is a real thing – My Dead Bunny by Sigi Cohen. .au/books/my-dead-bunny/


End file.
